Unity
by sphinx01
Summary: It never ceased to amaze me how, in his novelization of the first TF movie, Mr. A. D. Foster managed to so GLORIOUSLY flub the quite important scene of Bumblebee claiming the AllSpark at Hoover Dam. He did, however, write one true sentence: "Nobody asked Bumblebee what he was thinking." This is my take on 'Bee's point of view on those crucial moments.


Author's Note: This fic has been lurking in my mind for quite some time, but kept refusing to properly come out. I received a major inspiration boost, though, from reading the fabulous works of my fellow authors femme4jack and White Aster. This story is dedicated to them.

Many thanks also go to my beta reader iratepirate.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Transformers, and I do not make any money with this.

* * *

**Unity**

**xxx  
**

It was a mystery to him how he could not have noticed the AllSpark's field. After all this time, after everything that might have happened to it that they didn't even know of, that field was still so incredibly, impossibly strong, a concussive blast of power threatening to engulf Bumblebee's every sensor and very core.

And yet, at the same time it felt like a warm solar wind caressing his plating, with a gentleness so intense it made his spark clench in longing.

He had been too frightened and agitated, and most of his sensors were clogged with the various chemicals or distracted by the electric devices the humans had been using on him. That was the only explanation Bumblebee could come up with for his failure to detect the Cube's presence when it had practically been next door.

Its field resonance was noticeably shifting now as the AllSpark reacted to the presence of another Cybertronian. Thin tendrils of energy began to reach out to touch Bumblebee's own field, and he couldn't help the soft keen that escaped him even at that small, simple contact. It felt so familiar...

He had heard tales of Cybertron's Golden Age when there had been special rituals during which bots were allowed to get into direct contact with the Cube, to physically connect with it. Bumblebee himself had been created at a time when such rites had long since been a thing of the past, but in this moment, as his field lashed out on pure instinct, it felt like he had never in his life done anything else. Both his arms came up as if on their own account as he crossed the small distance that still separated them, careful but not the slightest bit hesitant. He needed this, needed to be close, to touch, to enmesh his small being in this ancient entity that felt like the very essence of Cybertron itself.

His fingers touched warm metal, and an instant rush of energy and data against his sensors triggered age-old protocols, duplicated and handed down through generations unto this very cycle. Tiny cable filaments extended without conscious thought, wriggling, searching, and then slipping into equally small connector sockets in one smooth movement as if guided by some indiscernible force.

It took no more than a split astrosecond of peaceful silence for their systems to align.

The next moment, a rush of joy and affection washed through Bumblebee's sensor net, so deep it made his vents stutter and the physical world around him fade to grey. All his systems were still working, providing their appropriate data, but it felt distant and without substance, like a background noise his audios had long since become accustomed to. Had someone told him that his spark had left his frame and was now floating in warm, golden light, Bumblebee would have believed them.

'_My creation...'_

He rested in a tender embrace of love and care that encompassed his entire being. A number of tiny energy fronds wriggled their way deep into his inner core, but it never occurred to him to fight the gentle intrusion. He only shivered a little as they wrapped around his pulsing spark itself, infusing it with a sense of safety and contentment Bumblebee had never deemed possible.

'_My creation...'_

The voice was not sound, he realized. It was sensation, a gentle vibration that traveled through every nanocell of his being, and a strut-deep shudder racked his frame as he all at once became aware of the implications the wordless message conveyed.

It was too much. The unspeakable pain and grief at losing his home world and so many of his friends and family... the seemingly endless cycles of shattered and renewed hope as they traveled the cold vastness of space, searching and searching as the vorns passed by... the recent events on Earth and his encounter with the human scientists who had so eagerly used him as their test subject... everything came together in what felt like a cloud of overbearing darkness. His spark constricted painfully, almost choking him, and then suddenly flared bright and hot as it unleashed all its anguish and desperation in one massive surge, pouring it into the powerful field still holding him tight.

It felt like being caught after a long fall. The AllSpark did not reject nor balk at the frenzy of barely coherent thoughts and emotions tumbling through Bumblebee's spark and processor. Every single one of them was taken and carefully examined, only to be answered with unwavering care. Pain was met with solace, grief with love, sorrow with compassion. The Cube's field was buzzing with soothing algorithms as it smoothed out the frayed edges of Bumblebee's own.

It felt, Bumblebee thought dazedly, like finally coming home.

'_Yes, my creation. I, too, have waited for a very long time. It gives me great joy that you have found your way to me.'_

In his ruffled state, it took Bumblebee a while to register that there was a hint of mourning in the words, although delight and pleasure clearly outweighed it. Strange... why would the AllSpark be sad about his arrival?

Now composed enough, he carefully reached out to probe the causes of this odd thing.

He met no resistance; on the contrary, he found himself gently encouraged to explore deeper. And as he did so, gingerly examining all the different lines of code presented to him, a picture began to form in Bumblebee's mind. The AllSpark, he realized, had not simply sat here and waited patiently to be found, as he had somehow expected a divine entity to do. The deeper he delved into the proffered data, the more evidence he found that during the long vorns of their search, the Cube had fretted, had hoped and anguished no less than the Autobots themselves had done... the thought was so overwhelming it left his processor spinning.

And that wasn't all, it seemed. A new data package was offered, and as it, too, spiraled open around him, Bumblebee gasped at the unexpected sensation of raw desire the AllSpark swathed him in, a primal hunger to _reconnect_. Not with Cybertron itself or the Cybertronian race as a whole, but with _every single spark_ that might still be out there among the stars.

What he was feeling, Bumblebee recognized in a flash, was the sharp longing of a creator for his beloved creations.

In this strange world of warmth and intimacy, he did not need to access any human broadcasting systems to speak through. Nor did he require glyphs or any of the other means of communication he normally worked with. Everything he felt and thought flowed from his very spark like liquid energon to gently spill over into the larger field surrounding him, and he suddenly felt profoundly grateful for it. How could words have described the surge of empathy that made his spark hurt so deeply? What glyphs would have sufficed to describe his urgency to make amends, to make things right somehow, tinged with such a sharp tang of contrition?

They had caused this. They had dallied in space and on alien planets when they could have spared the Cube such bitter grief simply by getting a move on to Earth as quickly as possible...

Not to mention the very real possibility of the Decepticons reaching the AllSpark first. They all but let it happen with their fooling away valuable time... He fought down a quiet sob.

A gentle reprimand pulsed through the AllSpark's field even as it met Bumblebee's self-reproaches with unrestrained tenderness.

'_You are not at fault for past grievances, my creation. Nor are any of your comrades. Do not burden yourself with a blame that is not yours to bear.'_

'_But what about the 'Cons?'_ Bumblebee insisted. The thought refused to leave him, and he felt a hint of amusement from the Cube at his persistence.

'_Do you think I would not welcome them as I did you? Do you think I would not guide them, so that together we may find a path to unity again?'_

His vision seemed to shift, and suddenly Bumblebee glimpsed a stream of images flash by his inner optic, each of them precious and glittering like gems on a string. He recognized Cybertron, but this was not the cold, dead world from his memories.

This was a Cybertron peaceful and whole, a Cybertron with a prospering people for whom the Great War was just another chapter in an old history record.

It was not a promise of a set future. The Cube, he realized, was offering _possibilities_, was granting the hope and potential for a new beginning they had missed so sorely for longer than he cared to remember...

Desire flared up in his spark, so fierce and hot it almost burned right through his chest plates. Oh, how he wanted that hope, that new world of opportunities that awaited them, and it could start right here, on this very cycle. There wasn't even the shadow of a doubt that they could make it, now that the AllSpark was with them again.

Not even the Slagmaker himself could be touched by this field, this voice, and not be changed by it.

Impatience stirred in his spark, began to suffuse his swirling field. They needed to go, to find Optimus and the others. No sense in wasting any more time!

And the Cube answered with what sounded and felt like the happiest laugh.

'_Yes, my creation. It is time. Please, take me to your comrades.'_

A sensation of movement shivered through their combined fields. Bumblebee felt reminded of a pleasantly cool breeze against his plating as his cilia began to withdraw, reacting to the AllSpark's gentle instructions. It was not a loss, more like a quiet shift of perception, taking no longer than a slow sparkpulse.

Next thing he knew, he was fully aware of his frame again, and his senses were once more firmly connected to his systems.

He cycled his optics briefly, taking a moment to get his bearings.

The AllSpark had transformed. It was still a cube, but considerably smaller now, and as he watched, the last tiny platelets just folded into place, leaving behind an object just big enough to fit snugly into his palm. Its field, though, was strong as ever, still holding him in a warm embrace and sending love and encouragement with every pulse.

He touched his fingers to it in wonder, the contact drawing a spark of electric energy, and then protectively covered it with his free hand before he looked around.

The humans had not moved. He noticed it with a bit of surprise, but a quick glance at the data his chronometer offered him quickly made it clear what the reason was.

His interaction with the Cube, timeless as it had felt to him, had barely taken more than a few astroseconds.

Somehow, with their connection still so close, the realization failed to leave a lasting impression on Bumblebee. He was standing in an artificial cave on an alien planet, with the AllSpark itself in his very hands, and it felt like the most natural thing in all the universe.

Turning his attention back on the waiting humans, he played back the only two recordings from the local entertainment network that seemed fitting for the occasion.

"Message from Starfleet, captain. Let's get to it!"

_***Fin***_


End file.
